


Blank

by Anon_M



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Harm, depressed!Stiles, sterek, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anon_M/pseuds/Anon_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sad Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oops.

"Things are not always as they seem.  
Sometimes we are caught in between.  
There are blank spaces and blank eyes,  
I am left with a lovely demise." 

 

This quote repeated in Stiles head, over and over and over. The voices and the words. The horrible screaming. The disdain and the pain of all that had occurred. 

Stiles wasn't sure how much he could take of this.  
People had assured him that it was self defense. Self defense.  
What was Donavan protecting? Was it his fathers honor? His memory. 

Stiles couldn't blame him. He couldn't dare. Stiles had provoked him. Had been attacked. There wasn't anything he could've done.  
But there's something he did. 

"Murder." He whispered. His tone was hushed and fervent, like a horrible, bloody secret.  
Theo knew. Theo lied. Theo was harsh and hard and insane. 

Stiles was angry with himself, not Theo. Not really. Of course, Theo was a sociopath, but his thoughts were pure. He was doing what he thought he had to do to have a family. 

How could Stiles blame him for that? How could anyone? Theo had saved Stiles life and his own. But to what cost?  
Someone else's.

Theo's eyes didn't change. What did that mean for him? Was it different for chimera's? It must be. Theo had killed for the fun of it and hey hadn't changed a shade.

Stiles would never be able to do that. It was hard to think about what he had done to Donavan.  
Donavan had threatened his father, had threatened him.  
But now Donavan was gone. He was gone and Stiles was to blame. 

Stiles was bleeding. 

The bathroom sink of Derek's loft was invaded by the stench of Stiles blood. 

Of course Derek would notice. 

The door to the bathroom was knocked on softly. 

"Stiles? Are you okay?" Derek Hale stood on the other side of the door, a hand on the door handle. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." His heartbeat didn't stutter, didn't falter in the least. 

Derek didn't relax.

"Why do I smell blood?" 

Stiles shrugged. "I cut my hand when I was working on the Jeep earlier. It's alright, Der. I'm fine." 

But Derek stayed outside the door, he waited for Stiles to come out. 

Stiles wrapped a bandage around his wrist to stop the bleeding. This was easy. The numb feeling spreading throughout his body in ways he didn't think it could. He should've done this years ago. Maybe he wouldn't have felt so empty if he had. 

Stiles was wearing a sweater that day. Derek had come home and they had finally given up on pretending like they didn't depend on each other for support. 

So Stiles stayed with Derek. 

And Derek looked after him. 

Scott ignored him. Malia called. Lydia messaged. Liam and Mason actually showed up at Derek's. 

Stiles' eyes were empty. The honey-colored warmth they were all used to was gone. The heat was gone, only the embers left. 

The embers were what have Derek hope. The moments when Stiles face would subconscious crinkle in an effort to avoid tears. Derek had to anchor on to that hope, because he didn't want to lose anyone else. 

Derek saw the bandage on Stiles wrist. He was quiet for a moment, then he took Stiles hand and led him to the couch. 

They say in comfortable silence for a long while. Derek caressing the back of Stiles hand and Stiles expression completely vacant. Derek knew, because Derek always knew. He worried and he paced and he always knew. Stiles was self destructive to the point of physical harm. 

This was serious. Something so serious that Derek wanted to run. He wanted to do what he had always done and run. 

But this was Stiles. Anything with Stiles was different. Everything with Stiles was different. He was loving and cold and warm and hating all at the same time and Derek had no idea what to do. 

"I'm sorry." Stile's said, turning his glassy, honey eyes to Derek. "I'm not sorry I did it. I'm sorry it makes you worry." 

"I know." Derek said, his voice softer than anyone who knew him would think. "I know."

There was a silence, this one more tense than the first. Derek's grip on Stiles hand was tighter, Stiles was facing Derek. He had an expression of sadness. Like he thought Derek was disappointed. 

"It's okay to be upset." Derek spoke. "It's okay to feel sad. It's okay to be angry and confused but it's not okay to feel..."  
"Empty." Stiles finished his boyfriends words. 

"I made myself feel empty for years. It hurts like hell, Stiles. You can't feel the burn right now, but you will. Trust me. You will." 

Stiles leaned his head in Dereks shoulder, his hair brush the older man's chin.  
"That's alright. As long as I can lie to myself for now, it's alright."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this developed quickly.

The next few months were rocky, Stiles visibly struggling with his turmoil. He was obtaining more and more scars when Derek finally had to stop. 

The bathroom door stayed open, and anything, everything sharp was removed from the bathroom and taken to Lydia's. 

Lydia had come by to see Stiles, only to be met with sullen silence.   
He was afraid to speak, knowing that if he opened his mouth he would crack. His willpower would collapse and he would cry.   
And if he started to cry, there was no guarantee he would stop. No guarantee that he could.

So he was quiet. Lydia touched his hair and cleaned his wounds, and neither of them said anything. She hugged him and he tried his best to hide the shaking. Derek watched in painful silence as Stiles picked himself apart with guilt. 

He wasn't a killer. He wasn't like Peter. He wasn't like Theo. He wasn't like the Nogitsune.

And yet he still punished himself as though he were. He tore himself apart trying to find out what went wrong inside his head. 

It was self defense, wasn't it? 

'There's a point where it stops being self defense, Stiles.' 

Scotts words rang clear in his head. 

When was the point? When Donavan was down when Stiles hit him with the wrench? When Stiles kicked him down the shafts? Did he really need to pull the plug to save himself?

Scott didn't trust him. The only person who trusted everyone, didn't trust him. 

If he was being honest, he didn't trust himself.   
There were moments when he thought, 'I did what I had to do.' and even considering letting himself heal. 

Those thoughts never lasted long.

 

Derek stopped letting him wear sweaters. He couldn't wear anything long sleeved if Derek didn't check him first. 

Derek always checked him.  
No matter what. Every morning. After every shower. Every move that Stiles made was monitored.   
On the outside, Stiles seemed to be improving. 

Derek knew better. He knew better than to believe that simply because Stiles was huddling closer to him at night, and he didn't bleed as often as he used to, that he may be improving. 

He wasn't. He was hating every moment he breathed, every fiber of his being screamed that he should've just let Donavan kill him. 

 

Pretty green eyes met his across the counter.   
Derek's eyes were the only thing he thought were pretty anymore. They twinkled and shone brightly like lights. Like leaves after light rain. 

"How are you doing?" Derek was so gentle with Stiles. So carefully firm. Stiles found himself seeking comfort in small things from Derek. He would nuzzle him during movies, or brush his hand while making dinner, almost craving contact. 

"I'm alright." Stiles sighed lightly. He always sighed when he knew was lying to Derek. He hated it. He hated feeling a sad gaze on him.   
Derek knew that, so he didn't look at Stiles. 

"Do you want to watch Star Wars tonight?"   
Star Wars was their go to movie, something that left Stiles asleep peacefully. The clashing of light sabers and the jokes of Jedi mind tricks seemingly soothing to him. 

"We could watch something you like for once." Stiles shrugged. Derek smiled beautifully. 

Stiles had never said anything like that before. Never said that he was willing to watch something else.   
He would have nightmares if they watched anything else, and he knew Derek genuinely liked Star Wars, but he had always just agreed so that he didn't have to feel so helpless.   
It was selfish, he knew, but Derek never seemed to mind. 

"Let's look through our movies." Stiles watched Derek smile at him, and couldn't help but smile sadly back. It had been so long since Derek smiled like that. He just wanted to see that again. 

He went around the counter and pressed his lips gently to Dereks. "Pick anything." He said softly, offering another kiss, one longer this time. 

Derek's smile returned. Stiles hadn't initiated any sort of intimacy other than a hug for weeks. 

It made Derek feel warm, and he decided to share that with Stiles. He slipped his arms around the younger males waist, hugging him loosely. 

Stiles was so soft, and he felt like he was melting in Derek affection.   
Who could have imagined that this rough edged Hale was capable of being so indubitably loving?   
Derek wasn't the same angry person he used to be. Stiles had sucked all of that sadness and anger right out of him in their first kiss. Now it was hard to stay angry with anyone. 

Derek almost missed that. 

Almost. 

 

Later that night, Stiles curled against his chest, completely engrossed in the movie. The had ended up choosing Enders Game, one of Dereks favorite movies, Stiles learned.   
He could hear Derek muttering the line before the character said it and found himself wondering how many times he had seen it.

During some parts of the movie, Derek would pause it and start to chatter happily. His words would run together and his hands would make motions that made Stiles laugh. This movie made Derek excited and that made Stiles happy. Happy was a feeling he hadn't had in a long time. 

Derek was softly biting his lip near the end of the movie, nervousness etching into his expression.  
"Don't seem so tense." Stiles smiled at him, kissing his chin. Dereks expression melted.   
Maybe they could do this more often.

Stiles had started to doze off during the credits, but Derek was okay with that. He was content to just let them play through to the end. 

"I think I'm okay." Stiles muttered sleepily. "Or on my way there." 

Derek smiled gently.

"I knew you would be."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually don't update this much. Oh well. You guys seem to enjoy it.

Stiles was improving. 

He was starting to heal, starting to let himself. Starting to forgive himself. 

Derek was so proud. There hadn't been new scars in weeks, and Stiles no longer smelled of blood. His scent was pure and sweet and everything that was Stiles. 

Stiles resumed his research, reading every book he could get his hands on, forwards, backward, sideways. He took any meaning from it that he could, and put it too the test. 

Derek found that Stiles would often ramble to himself, pacing about the loft like a caged animal. Then he would have an epiphany, and get extremely excited. Excited to the point where he once simply kissed Derek and went back to his desk. 

Derek was overly happy with this development. Stiles wasn't shutting him out, or shutting down completely. He often spoke his mind at random times, such as before. He spout fact after fact that made sense to him, and then waited to explain it to Derek. 

The Hale usually had no idea what he was talking about. Had no idea what the subject even was, but he gave a reasonable argument anyway. Sometimes he would say something and Stiles would stop dead, stare at him a moment and begin to pace as if Derek had given him a new perspective. A new variable. 

Stiles was nothing short of a genius. He was extremely brilliant and often wrote on Dereks walls in chalk, trying to work out something in his head.  
None of it made sense to Derek at first, but eventually Stiles would explain and Derek would see that Stiles was the best type of rational in the most chaotic way. 

No one ever knew what he thought until he told them, and it was always something that no one had thought of. He always had a plan, a stradegy. He always knew what he should do.  
It just depended on the stage of the problem. 

Stiles had improved enough to go to lunch with Lydia, yet so far he dragged Derek along for moral support. Despite Derek's reassurance that he would be fine, Stiles simply felt more confident if the older man was with him. 

So Derek was there. He was there for every cup of coffee, library visit, discussion over lunch, mall trip and dinner that Lydia offered Stiles. 

Stiles clung to Derek like life support, like Derek was the only thing that kept him afloat in the sea of his own thoughts.  
Derek loved that idea.

 

Tonight was odd.  
Stiles behavior had been extremely discouraging, and Derek was beginning to worry.  
Stiles didn't touch a single book, paper, or stick of chalk. 

He's simply sat in silence, staring at the ceiling above Dereks bed as he lie there. 

"Stiles?" Derek crawled onto the bed, lying in between the legs of his boyfriend. He sat his chin on Stiles chest, looking at him with green eyes that wanted the truth. 

Stiles reached down and played with Dereks hair, running his fingers through it in a way that he knew Derek loved. True to the statement, Derek leaned into the touch. 

"Are you alright?" Derek asked. Stiles hadn't been closed off in a while, and it was frightening to see this happen. 

"Yes." He looked down at Derek with darkening honey eyes. "Yeah, I'm alright." His breath was steady and warm. 

"Why haven't you moved?" Dereks fingers played with Stiles' shirt as he shyly asked questions. 

"I've been thinking."

Derek snorted at the comment. "You're always thinking."

"This is different." Stiles shook his head. "These past few weeks I've gotten back into old habits. I've started researching and doing logical thinking." 

Derek hummed. "Yes, you have. I like it. I missed you rambling things at me that I didn't understand until you finally answered your own question." 

Chuckling, Stiles responded. "What if my logical thinking shows me why I hated myself for so long? Why I still do? What if I find solid evidence of why?"

"You won't." Derek said, no hesitation whatsoever. "There's no logical reasoning to that. You simply won't find any reason or evidence, because evidence isn't opinion. It's fact. And the fact is that you're a strong and loyal person who doesn't deserve to treat himself the way you do." 

There was a long pause and Stiles bit his lip.  
"What if-" 

"Stiles, stop. You're not allowed to self destruct on me again, okay?" Derek nuzzled into Stiles chest with his cheek. "You're not allowed."

 

They had lunch with Lydia the next day, and Stiles was quieter the usually. He did most of his thinking in his head, so different than the usually charismatic rambling they were used to. 

"Why aren't you saying your thoughts out loud?" Lydia asked, her confrontation personality bluntly invading the conversation. 

"It has nothing to do with the quantum physics we're talking about." He said, munching on a fry. 

"Then what is it?" Lydia looked annoyed. Of course, Stiles knew that he was expected to answer that question in the first. He just enjoyed being difficult. 

"Self harm." 

Derek and Lydia froze, causing Stiles to look at them warily. 

"Don't look at me like that." He said, proceeding to sip his drink.  
"You guys are the ones that asked." 

"Why are you thinking about that?" Derek asked softly, caressing the slowly healing scars on Stiles arms. 

"I was thinking that I wanted to start again. But you always seemed so disappointed."  
Derek's chest constricted and he tightened his grip on Stiles waist. "Don't ask why I want to do it, because I don't know the answer. It's so horribly illogical that I want to, but I do. I'm trying to find something to justify it, but there's nothing. There's absolutely nothing." 

Frustrated, Stiles picks at the scabs on his right forearm, bur Derek stops him. 

"It's addictive, Stiles. You want to because you want the feeling. Why? You've been so happy." Lydia said.

"I don't want to talk about this. I was much happier just thinking about it. I like my thoughts more than yours." He leaned into Derek. "Derek knows when he's supposed to ask questions." 

 

Derek was panicking on the inside. Stiles was doing so well.  
What had happened?  
What had he done wrong?

'It's addictive.'  
Maybe that was it. Maybe Stiles couldn't help be want to. 

Did that make Derek a failure?  
It shouldn't, but it made he feel as though it did. 

Derek was back to monitoring Stiles, trying to prevent a relapse.


End file.
